“First appointment?” the nurse asks, her voice friendly but efficient as she inputs information into the computer.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Alright. We’ll start with the basics—blood pressure, weight check, and a few questions. Then the doctor will be in for your ultrasound. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Zach glances at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that mirrors my own.
When the doctor arrives, she introduces herself with a warm smile. “I’m Dr. Hart. It’s great to meet you, Lainey. And you must be…”
“Zach,” he says, standing briefly to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Zach. Are you ready to see your baby for the first time?”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Your baby. It’s such a simple statement, but it feels monumental, like it’s reshaping my entire reality in real-time.
“I think so,” I manage, glancing at Zach. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he nods.
The doctor gestures for me to lie back. “Since you’re just shy of ten weeks, we’ll be doing a transvaginal ultrasound. It’ll give us the clearest picture at this stage.”
I nod, my cheeks flushing as I glance nervously at Zach. He catches my hesitation and looks down at the floor, giving me privacy as I adjust.
Once I’m ready, the doctor begins the scan, and the room fills with the quiet hum of the machine.
And then—there it is.
The screen flickers to life, revealing a small, fluttering image that takes my breath away.
“That’s your baby,” Dr. Hart says gently, moving the probe slightly to focus the picture. “And there’s the heartbeat.”
A steady, rhythmic thumping fills the room, impossibly fast and strong for something so tiny.
My throat tightens, and before I can stop myself, tears are streaming down my face. I press a hand to my mouth, overwhelmed by the sound, by the sight, by the weight of everything.
Zach is completely still beside me. I glance at him, expecting his usual cool detachment, but he’s staring at the screen with an intensity I’ve never seen before. His jaw is tight, hislips pressed into a thin line, and his hands are clasped so tightly his knuckles are white.
“Everything looks great,” Dr. Hart says, moving the probe slightly to capture measurements. “Strong heartbeat, good growth. You’re measuring right on track for your due date.”
I nod, barely hearing her. My focus is on Zach, on the way his breathing has shifted, shallow and uneven, like he’s trying to keep something contained.
When the doctor finishes, she hands me a small printout of the ultrasound image. I cradle it carefully, my tears still falling as I sit up.
“Congratulations, both of you,” Dr. Hart says, smiling warmly before stepping out of the room.
For a moment, the silence is deafening.
Then Zach exhales sharply, rubbing his hands over his face.
“That was…” He trails off, searching for words.
“Amazing,” I finish, my voice breaking slightly.
He nods, his hands dropping to his lap. “Yeah. It was.”
We step out of the office into the afternoon sunlight, and Zach immediately slips his sunglasses back on, shielding his eyes. I clutchthe ultrasound printout tightly, softening its edges with my grip.
The weight of everything feels heavier now, not lighter. I glance at Zach, searching for something—anything—in his posture or expression that might tell me how he’s feeling.
